Hogwart's Boys
by UniquelyMi
Summary: After Pettigrew escapes to revive Voldemort, Dumbledore does what he should have in Harry's 1st year and explains the prophecy to him, arranging for him to stay at Hogwarts for Occlumency lessons rather than go to the Dursleys. The catch? Snape's the teacher.


**Summer Arrangements**

"You asked to see me, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled from behind half-moon spectacles. "Ah, yes, Harry, do have a seat. Lemon drop?"

Having been practically force-fed chocolate for the past day, Harry politely refused the offer. Dumbledore did not appear unduly upset, but there was a somber air about him.

"In your first year," he began, "you asked me why Voldemort tried to kill you."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, his heart beating faster. Was he going to get an answer?

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "On a cold, wet night fourteen years ago, I was interviewing an applicant for the post of Divination teacher." Harry couldn't see why this was related, but he kept silent. "To be quite honest, I was disinclined to continue the subject, however, this one particular candidate, Sybil Trelawney, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very gifted, very famous Seer, and so I agreed to see her as a courtesy. I was disappointed. I told her that I did not think her suited for the post. I turned to leave."

"Professor?"

Rather than reply, Dumbledore gave the basin on the table a swirl. Harry did not have time to wonder when a ghostly figure rose up, speaking in the hoarse tones he had heard earlier.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._"

The figure dissolved, returning to the basin, leaving Harry stunned.

"This, Harry, is a Pensieve," Dumbledore answered his unspoken question. "In it, memories can be placed for viewing. The memory you just saw was of Professor Trelawney making a prophecy."

Harry's voice took a while to return to him. "So that means – me? I'm the one who was -" he tried to remember what she had said.

"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies," Dumbledore quoted. "There was another person, however, who heard the prophecy, a Death Eater. He was discovered and subsequently thrown out, but what he heard, he reported to his master. And Voldemort resolved to destroy the threat."

"So he tried to kill me."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "As it so happened, there were two people who could have fulfilled that part of the prophecy. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."

"_Neville_?" Harry was not able to stop his exclamation of shock. He flushed. "Er…so it might not be me?" he covered up.

"I am afraid, Harry, that it _is_ you. The prophecy could have applied to either of you, but in choosing you, Voldemort marked you as his equal, thus fulfilling the second part."

Harry's scar had never felt so conspicuous and he reached up, half-wanting to flatten his hair over it. "That can't be right."

"Pardon?"

"That can't be right," Harry repeated, feeling the way he had when Hagrid had told him he was a wizard. "I – I'm not good at magic, well, not like Hermione. I don't have any 'power he knows not' or whatever it was! How can -"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Not all power is dark and arcane. At the age of thirteen, you have already defied Voldemort twice, which is something many full-grown wizards cannot say. Further, I believe that, when Voldemort tried to kill you and your mother sacrificed herself, he transferred some powers to you, making you his equal. This is why you can speak Parseltongue despite not being a descendent of Salazar Slytherin and this, I believe, will potentially give you a mental connection to Voldemort."

"Sir?"

"Perhaps you wonder why I am telling you this now," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded, wondering if he wouldn't rather know after all. "Professor Trelawney made another prophecy recently."

Harry was unable to repress an intense surge of hatred against Trelawney, who had destroyed his life with the only two true prophecies she had made.

"This prophecy told that Voldemort would rise again, and soon. As such, I wish to give you Occlumency training." He did not wait for Harry's question. "Occlumency is a branch of the mind arts that involves shielding your mind. When Voldemort rises, I want you to be able to protect yourself against mental attacks, for Voldemort _will_ attack."

"Yeah." Harry did not meet Dumbledore's eyes, though he knew it wasn't his fault. _Just Voldemort's_.

"I want you to remember, Harry, that not all prophecies are fulfilled." Harry's head shot up. "Prophecies tell of a potential path, but this is not the only path. Perhaps, had Voldemort not decided to eliminate you as a threat, you would never have been a threat. It is up to you to decide to let this prophecy rule your life – or not."

"But I can defeat Voldemort."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "It is very likely."

"Then I'll do everything I can." The words fell out of his mouth, but Harry did not take them back.

Dumbledore's smile was sad. "I had thought you might say that."

"So shouldn't I start preparing as soon as possible, then? Sir?"

Dumbledore regarded him for a moment. "Your mother's sacrifice," he said, "lives on in your blood. This is powerful magic; as long as you call your aunt's residence home, Voldemort will not be able to touch you there. However, I suspect you will be in need of Occlumency very soon. If you agree, you will spend your summer learning -"

"Thank you, sir!" Harry exclaimed.

"- with Professor Snape."

His mouth fell open. "What?" He gave Dumbledore a pleading look. "But he hates me! Couldn't you teach me?"

"I am afraid I am a busy man, and Professor Snape is the only other Occlumens of the required caliber," Dumbledore said.

Harry blushed. "Sorry, professor, I didn't mean to imply -"

"No harm done," Dumbledore said easily. "He will also instruct you on certain subjects of his choice."

"And he's agreed?"

"Professor Snape has even more reason to want Voldemort's defeat than you." His gaze was firm, choking Harry's protest that he was a Slytherin in the throat.

"Yes, sir."

Severus Snape surveyed the boy left in his charge with distaste and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. How had Dumbledore thought this could possibly be a good idea? But Dumbledore had looked at him with those obscene twinkling eyes of him and he had had no choice but to accept.

He was beginning to regret it already.

"Well," he snapped finally. "Your possessions have already been moved to the quarters adjoining these. As per agreement, all other materials will be supplied. Now, rules. Curfew will be at nine, no exceptions. You will join me for breakfast at eight. The Headmaster expects us to take meals together -" damn Dumbledore and his ideas "- without exception. Most of the castle, including the Great Hall, is closed for the summer. The library has been left for your convenience. I will hold your broom; you will be allowed it as a _reward_." He emphasized the word. "Though our relationship is atypical, I am still your professor and as such you will address me as 'professor' or 'sir'. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Potter sounded just as reluctant to be there as him, which was some consolation. If he had to be miserable, so did Potter.

"Other than Occlumency, I will teach you nothing new until I have ascertained that you are proficient in all your other subjects and you have completed your summer homework." He studied Potter for a reaction, but there was none. Lily would have pouted. He shoved the thought out of his consciousness with the ease of a master Occlumens. "I have a readings on Occlumency which you will complete by the end of next week and write an essay detailing what Occlumency is and how you will learn it before we begin practical studies." He looked mulish at that, which Severus sourly thought must be his father coming out. "That will be all for today. The readings are in your quarters. Follow me."

He didn't glance back to see if Potter had obeyed, leaving with a billow of his robes, but covertly used surface Legilimency to make sure. It wouldn't do to lose the boy on the first day.

The air grew colder as they descended into the dungeon, but the temperature sensitive heating charms he cast on his robes when they didn't affect the potions he brewed kept him warm. Potter, however, likely didn't even know what heating charms were. Even walking in front, Severus could tell the boy was shivering, dressed for summer heat. He ignored him, walking in silence until they reached a simple door.

"This, Potter, is where you will be staying for the duration of this summer. The door to my quarters is protected." He indicated the door a few paces over. "There is also a door linking our quarters. I will know if you violate curfew."

Potter muttered something under his breath, which Severus ignored, not wanting to deal with the boy. He opened the door instead.

The room was warmer than the rest of the dungeon, and Potter was visibly relieved to be out of the cold. Severus was tempted to lower the temperature, but decided against it. Even he had a limit.

"I will be in my room. Begin your homework."

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought occurred to him. "Potter," he snapped.

"What?" Potter asked. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.

"I am aware that you have a map of Hogwarts and an invisibility cloak. Give them both to me."

Potter gaped in outrage. "You can't do that!"

Severus sneered. "I am your professor, Potter," he said silkily, "and those items will be confiscated. Take it up with the headmaster if you wish."

"I'm not giving them to you!"

Annoyed, Severus stepped forward. "_Give them to me_, unless you have a sudden desire to be cleaning cauldrons for the duration of the summer."

"_No!_"

His patience gave out. Potter was staring him firmly in the eyes (a habit Severus had to break him of), and it was simple to Legilimize the locations out of him. Potter's protests and attempts to stop Severus was futile; Severus brushed them off with ease and took the invisibility cloak and map.

"There," he said. "That wasn't difficult."

Potter glared at him, his eyes glazed over with furious tears, and for a moment he saw a spark of Lily. A familiar stab of pain crossed him and he grimaced, quickly turning it into a scowl.

"That's all I have of my parents, you git!"

Severus's sneer was half-hearted. That was it? An invisibility cloak and a map? He remembered something. "Lying, now, Potter? I am perfectly aware that Hagrid gave you an album."

"Oh, so you're going to take away my only pictures too! You're an evil, foul -"

Severus flicked a temporary silencing charm at him. "Your aunt has pictures of both your parents," he said dismissively.

"Really? Well, I never saw any!"

Even as he refuted that sharply, the words gave him pause. He could remember Lily crying, more than once, that Petunia hated her; perhaps she _had_ gone that far.

But Potter did not seem in any way like someone who had been so much as neglected. He was a bit thin, true, but so had been Potter – James Potter – for years, and Lily hadn't been on the stout side either. And he was defiant, arrogant, swept up by his fame and fortune, broke all the rules of Hogwarts like he really was as important as the Wizarding world claimed, had revered his truant father from the day he step foot in Hogwarts. He certainly hadn't seen anything _Severus_ had.

Potter let out a stream of obscenities.

"Detention," Severus snapped automatically. "I will have a task for you," he amended, running through appropriate punishments for Potter, now that he had an entire summer. "And stop slandering your relatives, you ungrateful thing. They took you in for no gain of their own."

Whatever he said clearly affected Potter, who clenched his fists, his face turning red.

"They kept me in a bloody cupboard until my letter came!" he screamed. "I had _bars _on my window when Fred and George rescued me – _ask them_! They hated me and my parents and I hope you and them rot in HELL!"

Severus was blasted out of the room, the door slamming shut. Seething, he reevaluated the punishment he had planned for Potter as well as lessons for emotional control.

But in the back of his mind, the niggling question persisted. Could Potter be telling the truth?

**I must admit I've never really been a Severitus fan, but the idea stuck and so this is the result. I'm not sure if I should continue or not. Thoughts?**


End file.
